If you had asked me a week ago, I would have said I am “voting blue no matter who.” That is no longer the case.

I am an avid Bernie Sanders fan, but after the results of Super Tuesday and the primaries on March 10, I am becoming increasingly nervous about his chances. I can’t say for sure that Biden will win the nomination, and I have not entirely lost hope. But as things stand now, the math is not in Sanders’ favor. I’ve started to prepare myself for the increasingly high possibility that Biden will be the Democratic nominee.

My first election year was in 2016, and I was inspired by Sanders, who favored radical policies that I didn’t even know were possible. I had long accepted my fate as someone on the cusp of being a millennial or Gen-Zer and existing as a Black, queer woman who was going to drown in student debt. The job market is a mess. Climate change will kill us all. Racism in America will continue to thrive. At 18 years old, I didn’t know I could ask for much better. …

Four years ago, if you had told me I would be willingly getting up before 7 A.M., I would have laughed in your face.

I made it through college without ever taking a class before 10 A.M. I just knew for a fact that it wasn’t in my nature. I spent my teen years going to bed way too late only to be up and cranky for the school day at 6:30 (I took a lot of zero period courses). College felt like the out I always wanted. There was no way I would even think about getting out of bed before 9. And all too often, 9 A.M. turned to 9:15, to 9:30. Just roll out of bed, put that hoodie on, brush your teeth and put on some deodorant. The day will be over before you know it. I’d take my little evening break, eat and shower. Rush back to campus. Take the night classes. …

It was spring 2016, the second semester of my freshman year. I had chopped off all of my chemically processed hair, and I was doing the damn thing. I mean, my fro was out in all of its glory. The sun made my melanin shine bright. I needed a new parking sticker, and I was headed into the Public Safety office. And that’s when it happened. A car full of white men rolled the window down and yelled “Nigger!” and sped away before I could even process what had just happened. I walk into the office visually shaken when I ask for my pass. The female officer asks if I’m okay. I tell her what happened, and she says, “Oh.” …

Today is the day that Cyntoia Brown was released from prison and I have… frankly a lot of feelings surrounding her release. On January 7, 2019, the then-governor of Tennessee, Bill Haslam, granted her clemency after she served 15 of the 51+ years of her sentence. Why was she jailed in the first place? For killing a man who attempted her rape her after she was sold for sex by her pimp.

She was only 16 years old.

Of course, I am happy about her release. What a tragedy — to be sold into sex, forced to defend yourself against sexual assault and murder, only then to be thrown into prison. Cyntoia Brown entered the system in her teens and was expected to serve out her sentence until she was in her sixties. …

In October of 2018, I attended a rally in the center of Chapman University’s campus to protest Brett Kavanaugh’s appointment to the Supreme Court. “No Justice, No Seat!” I remember the cheers, the open mic where I casually announced my sexuality. I remember the scared faces of all the people who would be affected by Kavanaugh’s appointment. The Panther reported that there were over 300 people in attendance at the rally on Oct. 10.

At the end of October, a similar rally was held. This protest was an act of defiance against the Trump administration after it announced that it would consider defining gender as a biological condition determined by genitalia at birth, eliminating federal recognition of the 1.4 million Americans who identify as transgender. …

When you’re learning the difference between being an activist and an organizer, a bi-product of apathy often comes along with it. Leading Black Student Union events, recruiting diverse columns for the school newspaper, planning programs over a little bit of rosé, Perfecting all the details can be a lot and exhausting.

An organizer is an activist, but an activist may not necessarily be an organizer. An activist is one who advocates or practices: a person who uses or supports strong actions (such as public protests) in support of or opposition to one side of a controversial issue, according to Merriam Webster. An organizer takes the ideals that an activist would have and gathers people together to organize for the cause. …

A year ago today, I announced to the world that I would be leaving Chapman in the middle of the Spring 2018 semester because I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. This diagnosis came after 20 years of life, and it’s not easy finding out that your brain isn’t typical. Leaving school was a comfortable choice in the sense that I hadn’t shown up for a full week of school in I don’t know how long. But I left with a feeling of failure.

My understanding of bipolar disorder was Katy Perry’s “Hot N Cold” and an episode of “Law and Order Special Victims Unit,” where Detective Stabler’s mother and daughter are both diagnosed with bipolar disorder. But the illness goes far beyond some of the stereotypes that lead people to use “bipolar” so loosely. I have Bipolar I, and more recently, I’ve noticed that I suffer from the illness seasonally. In the fall, I’m more likely to have depressive episodes, while in the Spring I am more likely to experience mania. …